


Black and White

by fab_fan



Series: Hard-Boiled [2]
Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: 1930s, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Noir, Canonical Character Death, Detective Noir, Drama & Romance, F/F, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Light Angst, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Newspapers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27916264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_fan/pseuds/fab_fan
Summary: She tasted like apples.That’s how it all started.She tasted like apples and whiskey and dark regrets not yet realized.Regrets that would haunt Raelle for eternity, because she wasn’t quite sure what she regretted.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Series: Hard-Boiled [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2044189
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	Black and White

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy Folks!
> 
> Yes, as promised, Intoxicating Interlude has gotten a sequel of sorts. This is not a direct continuation from that story, but we are back in that world with those characters. 
> 
> I'll preface by saying, while this is noir, it's not 100% in the style of a Dashiell Hammett or Raymond Chandler story. Why? I tend to get a bit more flowery. Can't be helped (well, it can, but I kept writing and wrote myself right out of their prose style.). Otherwise, enjoy!!!!!!

She tasted like apples.

That’s how it all started.

She tasted like apples and whiskey and dark regrets not yet realized. 

Regrets that would haunt Raelle for eternity, because she wasn’t quite sure what she regretted.

It was another hot day in Salem. The thermometer outside had the mercury nearly breaking through the glass, and everyone and their cousin were doing what they could to stay out of the heat. Sweat trickled down the nape of Raelle’s neck and caused her shirt to stick to her back and shoulders uncomfortably, the white turning almost see-through and dragging at her skin as she leaned back in her rickety old chair that the previous tenant had left behind when he skipped out one night two rent payments and a bottle of booze behind. Her feet kicked up onto the scraggly pock marked desk, thin calloused fingers itching for something to do, to touch. To get her mind off the fact the bills were past due and ain’t one customer come walking through those doors in days. 

The wooden chair tilted back onto its cracked hind legs as she flicked her fingers, wondering if she could scrounge up enough rolling paper and tobacco from the drawer to make a cigarette that she supposedly quit smoking ages ago. 

Not like it mattered much, at this rate. She could barely afford to hide from the landlord let alone buy a lighter.

And, it wasn’t like she had someone to complain about her tasting like ash or smelling like acrid smoke, like the docks did the night they went up in flames a town or two over under suspicious circumstances that went unsolved, like many cases around the docks went.

But, yeah, no one around to snatch away the smokes she’d bum off a passing beat cop and crush them under a slim heel that led up to a pair of legs that would stop any dame or fella in their tracks like in one of the funny pictures you could see for a quarter down at the Starlight Cinema. 

Not anymore.

Not for a long while.

Which was fine.

Better than fine.

Because women like that led to one thing, and one thing only.

And it sure wasn’t a cozy little cottage on the beach with a soft bed and even softer kisses.

She thought about snagging the newspaper from her neighbor one door down in the tiny office building situated a hairsbreadth from the street that separated the really bad part of town from the ‘it’s ok’ part of town. Wasn’t like Clive ever read the damn thing anyway. Boy hadn’t even been around lately. Rumor was he was holed up in the ritzy part of town, making eyes at one of the high and mighties. 

Rumors were funny things.

Could make or break a person, whether they were true or not.

Sometimes, it wasn’t clear if it was better if the gossip was fact or fiction.

In her line of work, it didn’t matter much either way.

Of course, it also didn’t matter much that she knew exactly who the guy was trying to please when the night got dark and the street lights went out.

None of her business, but she still knew.

Just like she knew she could go and grab that paper without anyone doing anything about it.

She quickly quashed the idea, though. 

Reading the paper meant reading the Times.

Damn Clive for ordering the biggest paper in Salem.

She wasn’t dumb enough to do that right now.

Maybe if she had a few drinks and lost enough sense to not care that seeing a certain reporter’s name caused her insides to twist and turn like someone had shoved their hand into her and decided to play around. 

No.

That’d only make it worse.

Letting the chair fall back down onto its front legs, her own feet landing on the floor with a thud, she contemplated skipping down to the local hotel. Maybe sit in the bar and see if anyone decided they needed someone to investigate if their spouse was cheating or gambling or just a drunk spending all the family’s money on wild salacious pursuits that would make a prim and proper lad or lady cover their mouth in horror.

She snorted.

Reduced to chasing cheaters and helping to keep the divorce attorneys hired.

Usually on High Atlantic dime. The upper crust wanted to keep their ilk in line and out of the gossip rags.

Pretend like they cared if their partner was stepping out on them when the fact was, all they cared about was that they looked pretty in the papers and kept their mugs out of lineups. Didn’t lose an inch of power or a dime of the hordes of cash floating around the rows of mansions far away from her own little apartment that was more a dingy closet than a room.

What a life.

Hadn’t always been that way.

Not until she made the biggest mistake of her life.

Gave her heart to someone that only wanted her for the shiny badge on her belt and the dark blue of her uniform. 

Kissed her and touched her and had her thinking about lives and futures and maybe settling down. 

None of it was true.

Not one damn bit of it.

Her biggest mistake told her what she wanted to hear. Used her because Raelle was an easy target. Had an inability to say no to her the moment they met and was too stupid to see what was right in front of her.

She glanced over at the black phone gathering dust on her desk, glaring as it remained silent. 

Of course it did.

The thought of a drink or five was looking better and better. 

There was a near empty bottle of cheap whiskey in the desk drawer. The one thing dust never touched because the cap was screwed off too often for it to even make a mark in the bottom slat of wood.

But, that meant drinking whatever few drops were left by herself instead of possibly getting a few bucks from someone searching for a private eye or charming a pretty face into buying her a round of gin and tonics.

If anything, she could hide out from her landlord in a place where the air conditioning worked. A bit of something strong on the rocks sounded like heaven. Could even hold the rocks and top it off. Maybe after a few drinks, she could try to catch the eye of an attractive gal for a few hours. Use her last dime to buy a dame a drink and get her to take Raelle up to a hotel room long enough for the sweat to not be from the unbearable heat and let Raelle forget about her troubles.

Forget about dark blue eyes and a teasing taunting tender smile.

About whispered promises and breathy gasps.

About waking up to kisses and holding hands instead of coffee cups. 

Holding coffee cups instead of whiskey bottles.

Radio on low and silent emotions on high.

Yeah, a drink would be swell right then.

Plan was starting to sound better and better.

For a few moments she could act like it was possible for her to not think about her sort of ex-girlfriend.

Pretend letting someone slide a hand inside her shirt or having her own slip underneath a skirt could make her forget about the unforgettable.

Make believe that she could kiss someone’s lips knowing they weren’t _hers_. 

Fool herself into believing she’d even go through doing more than look at anyone who wasn’t the woman who took her heart and never gave it back. Smashed it up and kept all the pieces.

That’s what fools did, and she sure had been made a fool. 

A sucker.

Damn, she needed that drink.

A couple gin and tonics, and this plan might be something to get into.

A couple gin and tonics.

That’s what she needed right then.

Just a couple gin and tonics.

And to forget.

Or get so tipsy she’d be able to pass out in her empty bed, not caring that she wasn’t pressed up against a warm soft body that made her head spin faster than any shot of liquor. 

Forget about how she used to wake up to a knockout straddling her with a hot wet red mouth before heading into the station to get a jab about the mark on her neck and the grin on her lips.

Forget about standing in front of a woman she respected and handing over her entire life because she’d let herself be made a fool. 

Forget the feel of the badge as it left her palm. Watched it land in Quartermaine’s. 

Listen as the woman who’d looked past every mistake she’d ever made couldn’t look past it anymore. As she told Raelle she was done. Orders from the top.

The faces as Raelle left for the last time. Anacostia. Tally. Abigail. Bridey.

Yeah, that drink sounded swell.

Her boots dug into the floor, and she pushed to her feet, wobbling a bit as a sudden bout of dizzying vertigo hit her.

When was the last time she ate?

She’d had a cup of coffee that morning - weak as a High Atlantic’s sense of empathy - but the brown sludge like water had been better than nothing. Shaking her head clear, she stumbled around the desk, plucking up her jacket and hat on the way. 

If she took the shortcut, she could be sitting at the bar in less time than it took to call a cab that she couldn’t afford.

She dropped her hat on her head, pulling the brim down low to shade her eyes from sight, and gave half a thought to pulling on her jacket.

It was too damn hot.

Propriety be damned. 

Not like she had folks to please and regulations to worry about.

Not since she lost her badge and all that went with it.

Lost her job.

Her life.

Opening the door, she ground to a halt.

Someone was standing there, fist raised, ready to knock.

Raelle blinked.

It was a woman. A shade past middle aged and heading into her older years. Wrinkles that were still dignified and an air about her that spoke to the money her expensive clothing flashed in the dim daylight.

A High Atlantic.

Pulling up to her full height, which wasn’t much, Raelle spoke up, voice raspy from disuse, “Something I can help you with, Miss?”

“Yes,” the woman gave a firm nod, “I am looking for Det. Collar. I was told I could find her here.”

“I see.” Raelle nodded, “What ya looking for her for?”

The woman’s chin gave a slight quiver before projecting outright command, “I am interested in obtaining her services.”

Raelle’s eyebrow ticked up, “I see. Won’t you come on in Ms…” She stepped aside and gestured for the woman to enter.

“I assume everything I say here is confidential.” she slowly entered and made her way to the lone chair in front of the desk.

Raelle hoped the thing didn’t break.

It’d been a while since someone sat in it.

And she could see the bit of splintering near the base.

“Yes, ma’am.” Raelle watched her, thinking she looked a touch familiar. Maybe she’d seen her in the papers...when she used to read them.

She knew this woman.

“My name is Swythe. Deputy Commissioner Anne Swythe.”

Raelle nearly slammed the door shut at the name. 

Swythe.

One of the biggest names in town.

One of the families that practically ran it. Ties almost everywhere, including the mayor’s office and the police station.

Deputy Commissioner.

One step down from running the entire force.

One step down from Petra Bellweather.

“You ain’t after a cheatin’ husband, are you?” The jacket tossed over her arm felt heavy, and the sweat stained shirt felt tight around her throat. 

This could be bad.

Yet, part of her didn’t give a damn either way and wished she was down at the bar already, sipping a cocktail and eyeing the closest doll with a too short dress and bedroom eyes.

“No.”

Raelle tilted her head.

This could get tricky.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to get herself jammed up in it. Whatever _it_ was.

She was done with that life, after all.

“Why are you here?”

Swythe sat down primly, folding her hands in her lap, exuding the sense of prestige her lack of uniform would never take away, “As you may have heard, my daughter, Libba, was killed recently.”

Raelle stepped back toward her desk, shoulders dropping. She’d heard. She’d briefly worked with Libba, while still a cop.

The death of one of the heir apparents had been big news. Splashed across all the front pages and blasted from the radio.

Unavoidable in its impact and importance.

“I am very sorry for your loss, Deputy Commissioner.”

She meant it, too. She hadn’t been close with Libba, but they’d met. Helped each other. Libba could be cutting. Cross. A bitch. But, she did her job. Gave Raelle grief more for working with a Bellweather than the Cession drawl that could come out and her lack of upper society bearing.

The woman stared at Raelle as the blonde eased around her desk. She should probably offer her a drink, but she didn’t have any to offer besides the little bit of whiskey left in the hidden bottle that wasn’t much more than a swallow.

“I want you to look into it.”

“Look into it?” Raelle sat down. She leaned back in her chair, eyeing the woman, “All due respect, ma’am, the force would’ve gone over that with a fine tooth comb. Ain’t much left to look into.”

An almost hardened smirk twitched at her lips, “We both know that’s not true, Detective.”

Raelle inhaled deeply at that.

Wasn’t a secret what happened to her? 

What happened around the entire sordid affair?

All about how some things operated?

Such as the police.

City Hall.

The entire city.

“You think it’s not what the coroner reported? What the Commissioner’s office told the papers?”

What the Police Commissioner signed off on.

“The official story says my daughter was, unfortunately and tragically, killed during an arrest of a suspected burglar.” Swythe glared, “Libba trained her entire life to join the force. She would never lose her life in such a manner.”

Raelle rubbed her face, “Things happen. Any number of…”

“Look into it.” She implored. “If you find nothing, I will accept the official report. I doubt that will be the case, though.”

“If you think there’s something more, why not start your own investigation?”

She already knew the answer, though. The Deputy Commissioner didn’t need to say it, but she still did.

“If this is because of someone’s order from inside the force...or above...the answers and facts will all be the same as what they sent to the papers.”

The Deputy Commissioner of the entire Salem Police Force was asking her to investigate the murder of a cop, her daughter, and she thought it might be from the inside.

Shit.

“Do we have a deal, Detective?” She sent an almost amused glance, “If I recall, my daughter said you would have risen through the ranks if you got yourself away from Bellweather and didn’t lose your head over a reporter.”

Damn it, she did not want to get caught up in whatever this was.

She didn’t.

Getting blindsided and tossed to the wolves once was plenty for her.

And, working for a Swythe could cause all sorts of problems.

Especially with a Bellweather as the Police Commissioner.

But...the rent was past due.

And, she was damn tired of spying on drunks.

Libba had been a friend in another life.

Had remained one even after that life ended and most folks wouldn’t go near the name Collar let alone the one who answered to it.

“Why me? There are other detectives. You could even get one of yours to keep their mouth shut.”

The woman studied her, “Why did you join the police force, Det. Collar?”

“I look good in blue.”

A raised eyebrow, “You’re not one of us. You have no stake in this beyond what I pay you. Especially now. You worked for them once. You know how this works. How _we_ work.” Her gaze was stiff, not budging an inch, “I want someone who can do the job. Not an amateur playing bigwig and someone I can trust when they tell me I can.” 

They stared at each other.

Raelle glanced away first, biting her bottom lip as she thought it over. She looked at the wall, mind examining the situation. Examining what this woman was asking her to do.

The woman didn’t look away from her.

After a couple of seconds, Raelle spoke up calmly.

“Two hundred bucks plus expenses.” More than double her normal price, but she was aiming high. Maybe the woman would balk and leave. Maybe she’d understand this wasn’t a simple one night stakeout that posed no problem except how long till Raelle found herself falling asleep as she waited for her mark to do something.

“Done.”

Well, there went all her bills.

Ah, hell.

“Alright, Deputy Commissioner. I’ll see what I can find. Don’t expect too much, though.”

The woman stood up, “I expect you to find out what happened.” She turned on her heel, “Your payment will be along shortly. I’ll have it delivered in cash.”

With that, she was gone, leaving nothing in her wake but a slightly crooked chair and a flummoxed private detective.

Shit.

She really needed that drink.

* * *

The body was still fresh, the coppery vile scent of blood still clinging to the damp air as sirens flashed like colorful flares in the dark. Raelle stood off to the side, half hidden in shadows as a fresh faced officer who was about to lose her loosely hooked baton cordoned off the area with tape and another hovered around awkwardly, pretending to know what to do while waiting for the detectives to arrive. The blonde did her best to not look at the woman face down and crumpled up like an old scrap of paper tossed away but having missed the trash can. Or maybe it hadn’t. Dress filthy and hair scattered, bruises painting what used to be milky white flesh and shoes long gone. She looked a sight, alright.

A bad one.

A pretty picture torn apart.

Another dame who got caught up in something she shouldn’t have and paid the price.

Probably an eager kid from the country. Swapped a pair of overalls and boots for heels and a glittering dress. Thought she’d conquer the world. 

Found out the world and its rough edges conquered her instead.

The thick grass was soft under Raelle’s scuffed up boots, pliant from the nearby lake making the area peaty and marshlike. Insects buzzed around, and the stench of rotting weeds mixed with the whiff of bitter iron and unending dirt.

Her fingers itched for her to walk over and do something. Help out.

Fix it all up.

Instead, she stood back and observed. Waited. Wondered if she could get a cigarette off one of the uniforms.

She could use one.

A car braked on the nearby gravel next to the black and white Ford, sending bits and pieces flying. Raelle watched silently as the doors swung open and two women got out, one a sprightly redhead, the other a straightlaced dark brunette.

Craven and Bellweather.

Just her luck.

The two detectives marched over, taking in the crime scene.

It was Craven who noticed her first, always the first to see anything.

“Raelle,” she breathed out, a happy smile gracing her lips. She walked over, Bellweather lifting her head curiously.

“Hey, Tally.” Raelle greeted, grunting as the other woman wrapped her up in a hug.

She always was a hugger.

“It’s so good to see you.” 

“Yeah, you too, Tal.” She meant it.

Tally had been a friend, even after everything that went down.

After Anacostia had her badge in hand and desk cleared out.

“Shitbird, been a while.” Abigail Bellweather ambled over, hands on her hips.

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing here?” there was a tone there that set Raelle on edge a bit, if she let it.

She didn’t.

A passive shrug, “Was in the neighborhood.”

Tally’s eyebrows rose and Abigail looked around, “You’re spending your time in the Lake District, now?” 

“Thought it’d be a nice change. I like the water.”

“No, you don’t.”

Raelle was a Cession, born and raised. She never lived anywhere near water.

Couldn’t even swim.

Don’t even try to get her on a boat.

“Not much for you to find.” Raelle changed the subject. She lifted her chin toward the body, “Newbie walked all over the scene, and that was after the public had a chance to get their photos and looks. Papers beat you here by half an hour. Ya ain’t gonna find nothing there but the entire town’s prints. Pretty sure the Chronicle dropped a camera bulb on the body.”

That had been a sight, watching the photographer fish out the used up bulb without getting her hands soaked in blood and grime.

Still had steadier hands than the coppers who showed up just after.

One of them had turned green and stumbled over behind the car at the first sniff of death. Been a bit woozy looking ever since.

“Damn it.” Abigail cursed.

Raelle shrugged, “Doesn’t matter anyway. Body was dumped.”

“How do you know?” Tally asked as Abigail glared at the young officers.

Raelle just looked at her.

Tally nodded after a moment, understanding. 

Raelle had worked this beat before.

She didn’t lose her job because she was a bad detective.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true.

She missed one important clue right in front of her face.

Blinded by pretty eyes and an even prettier smile.

“You’re saying it was a waste of our time to even come out here?” Abigail turned back to her.

Raelle shrugged.

“Great,” Abigail sighed. 

“Might want to get them setting up perimeters and checking cars. Bastards are probably long gone, but someone might have seen something, and you never know, sometimes they get cocky.”

“I know.” Abigail began to stomp away, “You! Officer Yao!”

Tally touched Raelle’s elbow, “How are you? Really?”

Always the friend. Even when there was a dead body a few yards away.

“Fine.”

Tally gave her a look. She wasn’t buying it.

“I am.” She didn’t want to talk about herself. Wasn’t why she was there. 

Not much she could say.

Not much good, at least.

“You should visit soon. Come out for a drink with Gerit and me. We could get dinner. Go to Joe’s downtown.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

She wasn’t going to.

They both knew it.

Tally studied her for a moment, “What do you need?”

“A file.”

Tally sighed, “Which one?”

“Libba Swythe.”

Tally’s eyes widened, “Raelle.”

“Can you get it for me?”

“The investigation didn’t find anything there. Why would you want the file?”

“Light reading. Can’t quite get into those dime store novels. Ain’t got enough pictures.”

Tally chewed her lip.

“Can you get it or not?”

“Yes, I can get it.”

“Thanks, Tally.” she was asking for a lot. Tally could get in trouble. But, she couldn’t start anywhere without at least that bit of info.

“Tally!” Abigail shouted, waving her over.

“I’ll have it sent to your office. You’re still over on Broad Street, right?” At Raelle’s nod, she offered a sad smile, “Take care of yourself, Raelle.” She walked away.

“You, too.” Raelle whispered, hands clenching and unclenching. She gave one last look at the corpse. Another dead end. Another unsolved case. She doubted anyone would get anywhere with it. No one important enough to worry about, and no one too important to keep quiet about.

With a blink, she turned and picked her way through the unsettled swampy land to her car. A beat up old Chrysler she’d gotten as payment for figuring out who was trying to nab the diamond necklace in a well known politican’s house a little while back. Lowering herself behind the wheel, she started it up, grimacing as it sputtered and coughed a second before roaring to life. She didn’t look back as she pulled away, letting her eyes rest on the road and thinking over what she needed to do next. A list of items popped to mind, but she knew she needed to wait till at least she could give a once over to what the flatfoots had already found. Truth or lies, it was a starting point, and she didn’t have much to go off of anyway. The crime had long since passed, and any evidence would be locked up in the station she refused to set foot in. 

If they even let her back in.

Well, let her back in if she wasn’t in cuffs.

The car meandered along, the Lake District slowly turning into a more built up part of town. She rolled down the slick roads, stopping at lights and brushing away the sense of exhaustion that nipped at her eyelids. 

The flash of a neon sign had her pulling over and putting the gears into park.

The Hotel Salem was a nice joint. Classier than the club but still catered to the folks who worked for a living. She strolled inside, not paying attention to the couples in their evening finest, bartering over where to go to dinner and if they should walk or call a cab.

Ducking into the little bar off the lobby, she saddled up to a stool, resting her elbows on the polished mahogany and tipping her hat off and onto the stool beside her.

“What’ll it be, Grumps?” a lighthearted voice called out.

Raelle scowled at the bartender, “I forgot you worked today.”

“You don’t forget anything.” Byron plucked up a glass and set it on the bartop, reaching for the bottle of gin, “How strong we going today?”

“Stronger than that.” she watched him begin to pour.

His brows shot up, “Want to tell me why the frown, or do I need to wait a few drinks?”

She grabbed for the glass as he topped it off with soda water, not even waiting for the garnish. She took a healthy swallow, and his eyes cut over as he noticed someone walking up. With a smirk, he backed away a step, “What can I get for you, Miss?”

A sultry voice, smokey and full of one night promises, lingered just over Raelle’s shoulder, “Champagne cocktail.”

Raelle glanced over as the woman settled in beside her, a glint at the corner of her mouth that wasn’t from the lights.

“Hello.” the stranger purred.

Raelle let her eyes roam long arms and even longer legs, “Hello.”

A smooth unblemished hand touched her thigh, “Buy you a drink?”

Raelle looked down at the hand.

It was too clean. Too soft. Not a speck of ink or wit on it. She probably tasted of money and not much else.

Nothing Raelle really wanted.

What she wanted, though, only caused her chest to ache in a way that made her signal for 10 glasses lined up in front of her and pray to something she didn’t believe in for a way to change time.

Though, if that meant never having gotten to wake up in Scylla Ramshorn’s arms, she couldn’t make herself do anything but sit back and let it all happen over and over again.

She was a schmuck like that. 

It’s what made her such an easy target in the first place.

Blue eyes and a smile. That’s all it took. Blue eyes and a smile, and there went everything.

Raelle tossed back the rest of her drink and set the glass down, “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

A wicked smirk greeted her words as a delicate wrist tilted, gesturing at the bartender for another.

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it!
> 
> Good? Bad? Indifferent? Let me know if this one is worth continuing. 
> 
> You all know the drill. Cookies galore for reading, kudos, and comments!!!!


End file.
